a change would shock everybody's sense of consistency, and so he "includes a middle," which may show him up in the light of an impartial man and a candid, who is convinced by the weight of argument, and, as an impartial and candid man, is compelled to yield to his new convictions. I predict the enrolment of the talented author of the "New Counterblast" in the band of jolly smokers, and that at no very distant date. He is coming over, convinced by the power of his own arguments; he will erelong boldly declare, that, "without any reproach to the disciples of his former creed, his mind is changed."

But I forgot my pipe. It is not a very remarkable pipe, when you first look at it. It is no costly meerschaum, surrounded by elaborate carving, nor grotesquely bowled Sweetbrier, nor gutta-percha novelty. It is a simple head in French clay, with a long cherry stem. A benevolent, long-bearded, monkish countenance, with twin glass eyes, and a few gorgeous crockery teeth, adorns the front of this paragon. The slowly distilled essence of many hundred whiffs has lent to the whole a rich chocolate brown, from which the glass eyes and crockery teeth and loose mantle shine out in strong relief. When I sit down to the enjoyment of this object of my adoration, I can taste the soul of every whiff that has passed through the long stem, and as the smoke curls upward, it pictures forth a thousand lovely visions.

Wearied by the arguments of parents and friends, I had nearly decided to forswear smoking; and as I sat on New-Year's Eve, lazily puffing, I debated the point with myself. What with the easy-chair, the warm fire within, and the howling wind without, I don't know but I fell asleep; at all events, the clock struck for twelve, and on the first stroke, the smoke rising from my pipe-bowl formed itself into the old original sprite which always appears on such occasions. It was a venerable manikin, with long gray, floating locks and a most perfectly colored skin. He waved his wand (as is customary), and through a long whirling tunnel of blue smoke I beheld a scene peculiar to the times.

It was in Virginia; far in the distance was the glow of many smouldering camp-fires, making faintly visible, now and then, the gray outlines of the tents. In the foreground was a gray-cloaked soldier. The January wind whistled round him, and as he drew his cloak closer over his shoulders, he swore many a bitter prayer at the hardships of his lot. Cold, hungry, almost barefoot, he felt inclined to

yield to the drowsiness which crept over him,

He leans heavily on his
he has his pipe!

even at the price of gun, when suddenly Carefully he fills it,

his life on the morrow. a smile lights up his face; lights it under the spreading branch of a tree, that the spark may not draw a bullet from an outlying enemy's picket, covers it over, and leans back for a smoke. As the clouds curl slowly from his lips, cold, hunger, and privation are forgotten; his weary body feels a delicious softness stealing through it, and his thoughts turn toward his far-off home in Maine. So long as he keeps his pipe, the poor soldier is not without every means of comfort. "While I wield this power," says my pygmy, "who dares call me useless and unprofitable?" "Ah yes," say I, "old fellow, that's all very well; that's one instance: but I'm not a soldier; that don't hit my case." The sprite's chocolate lips curled disdainfully as he waved his wand again; the smoke whirled and flew into a ring, framed within which I saw a familiar face, a student sitting in a dreary rag-carpeted country room, a lobster-red fury of a stove in one corner, the ground outside all snow covered, and the North wind howling through the bare branches of the trees. What with the dismal prospect outside and in, and his own friendless state of suspense, he might well be pardoned the thoughts that filled his mind. He was possessed by a devil, a blue one. What had he to be thankful for? The Governor down on him on account of the injustice of the Faculty, who, harsh men! would not make allowance for the exuberance of youthful spirits. He off in that purgatory, sent as to Botany Bay, to purify himself and come out pious. Friendless and alone, thoughts of cutthroats and dark, rapid rivers, and the other most approved cures for despair, suggested themselves to him. He pictured to himself his classmates, his own peculiar jovial clique, making their New-Year's Eve punch, then drawing round the fire to drink and talk and laugh, and perhaps drop a word of sorrow for his absence. He thought he could hear them, as they lit their pipes, and the smoke rolled upwards

ah! but he could at least smoke: there lay his old brown clay pipe, and his pouch beside it; there was at least one constant friend, of whom neither Faculty nor cold nor loneliness could deprive him. As he leans back smoking, while all grows darker and darker, the stove roars a more jolly tune, the wind whistles more musically through the trees, which seem boxing each other in rough play, and the rag-carpet begins to look more jolly and tipsy and rainbow-like. He reflects that he is not so badly off after all. He will have leisure

for six long months, to try the good resolutions which come faster and faster as the smoke clouds roll upward; and as the blue rings multiply, the more distant ones growing larger in a sort of inverse perspective, he sees in them foreshadowings of his future life. He sees himself rising higher and higher as the rings grow larger, increasing in the respect and love both of God and man.

"And his heart is light, for his pipe burns bright,
And his dreams are all of glory."

As the manikin effaced this last picture, he gave me a triumphant look (for this scene had touched me very near home), nodded, and vanished (I believe that's the most approved word for the departure of spirits of all sorts). I woke with a start, and found my pipe just smoked out, but in the last faint ring, slowly floating toward the fire, I fancied I could still trace a resemblance to the pipe-sprite, with his kindly smile and wild gray hair.

Such was my dream; if it is inconsistent with itself, flighty, marvellous, faulty in any way, you must lay it to the vagaries of a dream, and not to me. However much I might have desired to improve some passages, the love of truth which our system of College government inculcates in every one compels me to adhere to the order of the occurrences;

“And remember, if it is n't right, I'm talking in my sleep."

CHARACTER.

WHEN the word character is used, we mean the moral, affectional, or emotional nature of man. A broader signification may be given to the word: it may include heart, mind, and body, the whole man. Since the combination of the first with the last two changes the whole aspect of man, since they act and react upon each other, I shall not use the word in its limited and special sense, but apply it to the physical and intellectual as well as moral qualities of human

nature.

There is another meaning of the word which I shall not now consider. It is a secondary or derived signification. The expression a person of character" is sometimes heard, meaning a person of

great strength or decision of character, possessing marked abilities or energy.

My object is to determine the number and relative force of the different elements which result in the product character. The number is three, the relative amount of influence of each element is equal generally, though it varies in different nations and in different individuals. The three elements usually balance, but sometimes one preponderates over the other two.

The first appearance of this exhaustive analysis occurred in Carl Hase's Introduction to his Life of Jesus, published some years ago. "Every human character," says he, "can be resolved into three factors: 1st, an organization originally determined; 2d, something freely chosen; and 3d, external circumstances." Under external circumstances is comprehended everything in the universe, outside of organization, brought to bear upon one's nature. This includes the example and teachings of other men, and the climate, soil, food, and scenery of one's country.

I will endeavor to estimate the power of each one of these elements in moulding character.

Physical, mental, and moral organization is the basis, and is absolutely necessary; for without this the others would not have the material to work upon. Does it furnish anything beside the raw, crude material? Some have said not. I am inclined to think otherwise. Some have figured the whole nature of the young child under the similitude of a tender plant, which can be made to grow in any desired direction; or of wax, that can be kneaded into any form; or of soft limestone, which retains forever the light impress of the feet of birds which may happen to run over it; or the soul of man is a harp, whose chords extend into the future world, and which retain throughout eternity the kind of vibration produced by the hand that once casually swept them; or lastly, to use the common illustration, the infant nature is a sheet of white paper, on which may be written good or evil to the full extent of its natural protectors, - which is completely powerless and at the disposal of every external influence, as much so as the sensitive surface of the ambrotype plate is to the rays of light.

All these illustrations are false, and give a wrong view. The best comparison which I have been able to hit upon is this: Organization is a canvas, with the outlines of a picture already traced upon it, but which the possessor can fill up as he pleases. Organization furnishes

the intellectual, moral, and physical basis, with certain inborn or hereditary tendencies, which can be developed or repressed to a certain extent by will and external influences. It is evident that very different pictures can be produced from exactly similar original tracings. The outlines guide the hand, however, and, paint as we will, they always restrain and fetter us, - hold us in check. They cannot be eradicated. It is impossible not to heed them.

We must not make too much of organization. All we wish to say is, that it furnishes something more than the crude, unformed material: it furnishes also proclivities, tendencies, inclinations. Phrenology makes everything of organization. But phrenology as a science is now exploded. Sir William Hamilton refuted one after another the baseless generalizations of George Combe and his predecessors. Man had less reverence than woman, because the space allotted that faculty in man's cranium was less than in woman's, said Combe. Hamilton, by an examination of two hundred skulls of each sex, and by actual measurement, found the space for reverence larger in the male than in the female skull. Another principle was, that the strength or intelligence of any brain depended upon its size, and the animal having the largest brain will be the most intelligent. Hamilton showed that the elephant and whale had larger brains than man. Then it was altered so as to stand, larger in proportion to its body. But certain species of monkeys have larger brains in proportion to their bodies than man. Thus was phrenology baffled at every point of its fundamental generalizations. Comparative physiologists say that intelligence depends upon the amount of gray matter in any brain, and this depends upon the depth and number of the convolutions. Organization furnishes a certain amount of this in every case, and it can be increased and modified by exercise and education.

Will is the next element in character, and it is often a very important one, rising at times above all obstacles, and making up for original mental, moral, and in some cases even physical, deficiencies. By mere force of will, moral perversities have been corrected, mental weaknesses overcome, and frail bodies made strong as iron. Great strength of will and decision of character are synonymous. All great men have possessed it. Nothing is known of the origin of this force, nor why one individual should possess more of it than another. The fact is undeniable. Will in man takes the place of instinct in the lower animals. It is given man as a protection, as a means of defence against organized tendencies and the despotism or